


Somewhere between sorrow and bliss

by thiccjoffrey



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Special, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Sick Character, deals with everyone's favorite hatsu: emperor time, it's very domestic but it does get sad; be warned, kuroro is so in love we both want to die, no one dies tho; dont worry, ooc as usual bc i love me some soft krkr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27730624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiccjoffrey/pseuds/thiccjoffrey
Summary: Well,he thought,there goes the turkey.//In which Kuroro attempts to cook a Christmas dinner.
Relationships: Kurapika/Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83





	Somewhere between sorrow and bliss

“Fuck…” Kuroro Lucilfer muttered as he opened all the windows in the first floor of his apartment, trying to dissipate all the smoke that originated in the kitchen. 

_Well,_ he thought, _there goes the turkey_. 

It was the third Christmas he’d spend with Kurapika as a couple. It still felt surreal to even think about it. He really was standing in the living room of the apartment he shared with _the fucking Chain User_ and he was wearing a _fucking apron_ trying to air out the smoke from the _fucking Christmas turkey_ he had just burned. 

Life sure as hell loved to mock him.

The first year, Christmas had been a truly miserable affair. The relationship had been way too fragile still, and the whole holiday atmosphere had had an awful effect on Kurapika’s mood for weeks leading up to the actual day, who couldn’t stop himself from making all sorts of venomous comments aimed at his partner, who couldn’t even blame him for them. 

He knew that on special dates, Kurapika’s mind would always go back to what he had lost. He was also aware that it was very likely that the young Kurta considered leaving him whenever any type of holiday approached.

_You did ruin his life, after all_

Kuroro sighed. Going over all of this was not going to help his current situation. And the last christmas hadn’t been as bad, not by a long shot; in fact, it had been quite a pleasant occasion, but it had been an improvised celebration, since Kurapika was supposed to be away for work that day, and they had ended up ordering take-out. The glare that the delivery guy had sent their way was nothing that Kuroro wished to experience again.

And this year, he wanted to finally, _finally_ , get it right.

_Third time's the charm._

Things were going more or less smoothly. Sure, Kurapika had been a little moodier than usual, but it was nothing compared to that first year. Kuroro also thought that the blond was getting a little sick; he had felt him shiver in his sleep lately, and he was sure he had been waking up to go and cough in the bathroom for a few nights now. However, whenever Kuroro even tried to approach the subject he was met with concrete walls. Kurapika was so fucking stubborn.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. They still had so much to work through. 

And he sure as hell wasn’t going to fix anything by sulking in the living room. He had a damn Christmas dinner to cook and Kurapika would be home soon.

* * *

Hopeless. He was so utterly and completely hopeless. Kuroro wasn’t that bad in the kitchen, not really; he could definitely feed himself decent meals. But this? _This_ was on a completely different level. Now the kitchen was a damn mess, he had wasted a bunch of perfectly good ingredients (so trying to cook a simpler dish wasn’t an option now), and Kurapika would arrive any moment now. 

And just like clockwork, he heard the front door opening.

“Kuroro?” he heard Kurapika call out, “is everything alright?” he could make out the hint of worry in the blond man’s voice.

Kuroro silently cursed. 

“Yeah, i’m here, everything’s fine,” he stated as he took off his apron and stepped outside from the kitchen to greet his lover.

He found him closing the windows. 

_Shit._

“May I ask what happened here?”

As usual, the sight of Kurapika took his breath away. Kuroro was certain that every single weather suited the young Kurta: the warmer seasons looked lovely on him, giving his features a perpetual golden glow, not to mention how impossibly alive his honey locks looked in the light of the summer months; however, Kurapika wore winter and harshness just as well. The cold climate gave his cheeks and his tiny nose a precious pink hue, and he still had snowflakes in his shoulders and hair.

“So? Is there a reason why our apartment is a freezer?” Kurapika’s voice brought him back to reality. The blond wrinkled his nose, “Also, what on earth is that smell? Was there a fire here or something?” he joked.

“Well,” Kuroro started, “I was making our dinner,” 

Kurapika raised his eyebrows “Oh,” he simply stated, “are you succeeding?” he asked, slightly tilting his head.

“I wouldn’t say that, no,” 

“Do I want to see what you’ve done to our kitchen?”

“I really don’t think so,”

Kurapika sighed, “Well, it looks like tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day for you.”

Kuroro cocked his head to the side “...Tomorrow?” he questioned, narrowing his eyes at his lover.

This was a surprise because Kurapika could not stand any mess and would rather sacrifice his (and Kuroro’s) precious hours of sleep than go to bed knowing the house was anything less than pristine.

Kurapika rolled his eyes, “If you wish to spend Christmas Eve scrubbing the kitchen floor, be my guest,” Kuroro could swear he was seeing the faintest hint of a teasing smile, “However, since you and I both know damn well neither of us has the skills to cook an entire Christmas dinner from scratch, I figured I should buy some takeout on the way home,” he said, pointing at the living room table with his head, where Kuroro could spot a white plastic bag from the restaurant he’d been obsessed with for a few months now. 

Relief washed through him like a tide-wave, and before he could register what he was doing he was closing the distance between them and enveloping the smaller man in his arms.

“You’re incredible,” he breathed into the crown of his head, and Kurapika simply looked up and gave him a shy smile in response before burying his head in his chest.

Kuroro thought -no, he _knew_ \- he could spend all eternity intertwined with Kurapika like this, as unlikely as their relationship was. He was aware that he didn’t deserve what life had granted him; he didn’t deserve to attempt to cook dinner for Kurapika, he didn’t deserve takeout from Kurapika, he didn’t deserve to share a home with Kurapika, _he didn’t deserve Kurapika_ , plain and simple. And yet, here he was.

Eventually, Kurapika ended their embrace, “Let me go change clothes so we can eat” he said, stepping away and leaving Kuroro in the living room, alone with his thoughts.

The older man followed the blond into their bedroom, a smile upon his lips.

“You know, I’m offended you had such little faith in-” Kuroro’s mirth died like a shooting star, panic arising in its place.

Kurapika hadn’t closed the bathroom’s door.

And so, Kuroro could see his lover from where he stood at the frame of the bedroom’s entrance, kneeling in front of the restroom, puking his _guts_ out. Now, normally this would be worrying, but nothing a good day of sleep and maybe a few doses of antibiotics couldn’t fix. This, however, was something else, because blood was coming out of Kurapika’s mouth like a flow of rubies. 

Kuroro rushed towards him.

“Kurapika!” he exclaimed, kneeling beside his lover, holding his honey locks away from his face. The younger man could only give him a brief apologetic look before another series of retchings coursed through his body.

“Let me get the car ready,” he said, planning to take Kurapika to a hospital, but a small yet firm hand grabbed his arm, signaling for him to stay. 

“Don’t,” came the raspy command a few seconds later, when it seemed like the puking attacks were over. 

“You just threw up blood, for fuck’s sake” Kuroro countered, a little more aggressive than he wished. Kurapika grimaced. “I have to take you somewhere they can check you,” Kuroro kept arguing. 

“Kuroro, stop.” Kurapika’s voice was so small and weak that Kuroro could feel his own panic rising even more. The blond man closed his eyes and leaned up against one of the mosaic walls, “I know exactly what’s wrong with me,” he murmured, not opening his eyes.

Kuroro furrowed his eyebrows, “Explain, then,” he winced at how harsh his voice sounded, and he got closer to Kurapika, pulling the blond towards his chest, “Please,” he added with a much softer tone.

Kurapika sighed as he relaxed in his arms, “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, “I should have told you sooner,” Kuroro could make out the tears forming in the young Kurta’s eyes, and his own heartbeat was through the roof now. Kurapika took a long inhale of air, as if preparing himself for what was about to come out of his mouth, “It has to do with my nen,” he explained, his eyes on the floor, “Back when I was developing my hatsu, I set a few conditions so that I could…” he trailed off, still avoiding eye contact at all costs. 

He didn’t have to finish the sentence. They both knew too well what he was referring to.

The blond man clung to him with all the might he could muster, burying his head in his chest, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his body ravaged by tremors. 

Kuroro held him as tight as he could. He wanted nothing more than to comfort his beautiful partner, to tell him he didn’t have to keep going and that everything would be alright, but he had to know what they were dealing with, “Kurapika, what did you do to yourself?” he asked, deathly afraid of the answer.

_What the hell did I make you do?_

Kurapika slowly lifted his head, regret tainting his every feature, finally meeting Kuroro’s gaze, “I’m dying,” he stated.

Kuroro’s brain refused to register the information, and he could only blink at his lover in confusion. 

_Dying?_

_Kurapika?_

This had to be some sort of mistake, he had surely misunderstood what he had meant. 

There was no way, _no way in hell_ , that Kurapika was dying.

Kurapika dying wasn’t even within the realm of possibilities. There was just no way he had meant it like that.

He shook his head, “What do you mean?” He asked, desperation rapidly showing in his tone.

Kurapika grimaced, “One of the conditions I set involved…” he sighed, lowering his gaze once more, but Kuroro gently took his chin between his fingers, lifting his face. He needed to _look_ at Kurapika right now. That face was the only thing keeping him from drowning at the moment. The blond man swallowed, “In order to make my hatsu as strong as it needed to be, I set a condition that took hours away from my lifespan,” he paused, but realizing that Kuroro wasn’t going to add anything, he kept going. “And well, my lifespan wasn’t infinite,” he tried to joke, but it came out as more of a strangled sob, “so I… I just ran out of time, I suppose,” he finalized.

This time, when Kurapika lowered his gaze, Kuroro didn’t stop him.

Kuroro’s mind was a battle-field at the moment. 

A tiny, selfish, and ugly part of him wanted to be angry at Kurapika, but he knew the only person to blame was himself.

_He abhorred you so much he was willing to give up his life just so he could be granted the strength to kill you._

Kurapika was dying, and there was no one to blame but himself.

If he wasn’t so numb he would’ve burst out laughing, because of course this was his very own karma. Of course he was the one to blame for the death of the person he loved the most. Of course this would happen right when things were looking bright for the two of them. Of _fucking_ course.

Life truly loved to fuck him over.

He felt a small hand caressing his cheekbone with feather-like delicacy, “Kuroro?” Kurapika’s gentle voice grounded him again. He focused on his lover, who was studying his face, apprehension evident in the blond’s expression.

Kuroro made a strangled noise and pressed Kurapika’s lithe body against his own, burying his face in Kurapika’s neck, inhaling the oh so familiar smell, wanting to get drunk off it. 

Soon enough, Kurapika’s soothing hand was going through his raven locks, “It’s alright,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry,” he added, and at this, Kuroro raised his head. He hadn’t even realized he was crying.

“How much time do you have left?” he asked, not really knowing if he wanted to hear the answer.

Kurapika frowned “I’m not entirely sure,” he confessed, “I’ve been steadily getting worse for a while now, but I should still have at least a little over a year left, if my calculations are accurate,” 

_And if you stop using your fucking hatsu._

He kept that thought to himself.

“You’re not going to die,” he stated instead, leaving no room for discussion.

_I did this to you._

_And i’m going to fix it._

Apparently Kurapika was too worn out to argue, and his only response was a sigh.

“I promise you. I’m going to fix this. You are not going to die.”

“Kuroro-”

The raven-haired man wasn’t going to argue this point. Instead, he cupped his lover’s face and leaned in to capture his lips.

Their kiss was a mosaic of contradictions. It was as desperate as it was tender and even if it tasted of iron and salt, the sweetness of Kurapika's mouth prevailed. And when the younger man softly sighed into his mouth, Kuroro deepened it.

When the need for air became too strong and they had to part, their foreheads were still touching, and Kuroro never stopped cupping the blond’s face.

He could’ve stayed holding his lover like that for hours, but eventually, Kurapika’s soft voice broke the silence, “We should go back to the living room.”

Kuroro frowned, “I think it’s better if you rest now,”

“It’s still Christmas Eve and you haven’t eaten your dinner yet,” he pointed out.

“You can’t possibly be serious,”

“Do I look like I'm joking?”

He stood up.

“I’m not a fragile child, Kuroro. I disclosed this information to you because I believe you deserve to know, but I’m doing fine most of the time. You have to know that."

Kuroro really, really, did not want to argue right now. He never wanted to argue with this man again in his life.

“To the living room it is, then,” he agreed with no further discussion, following the other man’s lead and standing up, and Kurapika offered him his hand.

Kuroro intertwined their fingers.

As they walked throughout the apartment, Kuroro couldn’t help but feel as if the temperature had dropped. 

Their relationship stood on a precarious line, that was very much true. It would always rest on dangerous ground and uncertainty, and sometimes Kuroro didn’t know if they would be able to make it through. But he could be sure of one thing.

He loved Kurapika.

The mere idea of a world where Kurapika no longer existed was so foreign in his mind, it didn’t even make sense. As difficult as being with him was, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. He took in all the decoration in their - _their_ \- apartment, the carpeting, every single piece of furniture, fondly remembering the light-hearted arguments that a lot of those pieces had caused. What would even be the point of this place without the little blond at his side?

Once they were in the living room, Kurapika sat down on his usual sofa, a little pearly white thing made from pure velvet, right beside the Christmas tree, and he brought his knees to his chest. After the whole affair, he hadn’t even got the chance of changing his clothes, and his expensive suit pants were all crinkled up now, his white shirt stained with a few droplets of blood on the collar.

He didn’t want to look at him differently, he really didn’t, but curled up like that in his messed up clothes, he looked so vulnerable, so small, so fragile, that Kuroro had to swallow the knot in his throat. Even so, even in his vulnerability, he looked _beautiful_. The lights from the tree reflected on his golden hair, enveloping him in a warm and subtle radiance. He thought it was impossible for him to _not_ look beautiful.

_I’m so fucking in love with you._

He knew the dam would burst if he stayed there staring at him, and instead he opted to go get a glass of water for Kurapika. It was eerie how the kitchen was the exact same as he had left it, when he had been revealed such grim facts. 

When he returned with Kurapika, settling the glass on the table, the latter’s head lifted, “You should bring a blanket. It’s still freezing,” he pointed out.

Ah, so it wasn’t just Kuroro’s grief and terror that was chilling him to his very bones. It was good to know that, at the very least, he hadn’t lost his grip on reality yet, “I’m on it,” he replied, light-hearted, “Drink your water,” he added before stepping out of his sight.

* * *

Once he came back with the worn blue blanket that Kurapika loved so much, he took him inside his arms, settling him on his lap and covering him with the blanket. They remained like that, cuddling in silence, bathing in each other’s warmth.

The white plastic bag remained untouched in the table, mocking Kuroro in its inconspicuous nature.

In a matter of minutes, his whole world had come crashing down.

No, that wasn’t true. His whole world was still here. Kurapika was still very much alive, his body was firmly pressed against his own, heartbeat strong and steady, and Kuroro would be damned before he let him die just like that. 

He didn’t care about the odds. He had been fighting terrible odds his entire life. The mere act of surviving a childhood in Meteor City was a middle finger to whatever gods were looking down upon him. And the biggest display of defiance was right there, curled up beside him. Him and Kurapika being together as a couple was certainly against all fucking odds. Life had granted him the opportunity of knowing every inch of this man, and he had somehow managed to make his way into his heart. Kuroro knew - _oh he knew_ \- that he didn’t deserve this sanctuary of love and happiness. _He did not deserve Kurapika._

But Kuroro had always been a greedy man.

And he would fight the heavens themselves before he gave up on Kurapika.

_You’re not going to die._

Once again, Kurapika’s sweet and melodious voice brought him back, “Merry Christmas, Kuroro,” he said, with a tone so soft it took everything in Kuroro not to break down right there.

_What would I do without you?_

“Merry Christmas, Kurapika,” he replied, giving his lover a little smile as he felt the stinging burn of the tears forming behind his eyes.

_I’m going to save you if it’s the last thing I do._

_I owe you that much._

**Author's Note:**

> hello! first of all, tysm for reading!! as always, i appreciate all sorts of constructive criticism & comments that could help me improve my writing.  
> ah, what better way to dive into the holidays spirit than some good ol' emperor time :D  
> this started as a completely different thing but we somehow ended up here; i rly don't know what this is, but alas. i've noticed i can't go more than a couple paragraphs without describing kurapika's beauty. do i use kuroro as a self-insert to talk about how in love i am with that man? possibly.  
> i also know this is ooc but i love my soft boys & i WILL give them tenderness & love whenever i can, all three of us deserve it. i'm also married to my "kuroro worships kurapika" hc, so there's that.  
> i might attempt to write this from pika's perspective, but idk, i think his pov is a little more challenging than kuroro's.  
> thank you for bearing with me, see you all next time!


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